


Love, In Fire and In Blood

by angel



Series: Bookstore AU [6]
Category: White Collar RPF
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, M/M, Thanksgiving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-29
Updated: 2013-11-29
Packaged: 2018-01-02 23:45:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1063103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angel/pseuds/angel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thanksgiving doesn't go as planned when Matt comes down with the flu.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love, In Fire and In Blood

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't the story I originally intended to write, but that one needs more time to get right. This one is brought to you by the word phosphene – you can thank pooh_collector for that one – and was inspired by the drabble meme prompts :) Art is by the very talented kanarek13, and title is from a poem by Pablo Neruda.

_“In this part of the story I am the one who_  
 _dies, the only one, and I will die of love because I love you,_  
 _because I love you, Love, in fire and in blood.”_  
 _~100 Love Sonnets, Pablo Neruda_

It didn't take long for Matt and Tim to learn a lot more about each other than either one even thought possible. They both wore glasses sometimes – Tim for reading specifically. Matt had a thing for juice bars. Tim liked to sing 70s tunes in the shower. Matt was an early riser, mostly because he had to use the extra time to get ready in the morning, but he wasn't very amiable until he'd had his coffee. Tim was a snuggler when given half a chance, and Matt usually woke with Tim wrapped around him in ways that seemed impossible.

A couple of weeks into their cohabitation, Tim turned their dinner conversation to his daughter. "So, Thanksgiving is coming up, and it's my turn to have Alexandra for a holiday. We usually go see my parents, but I thought it might be nice to have dinner here."

Matt looked up from his salmon bibimbap and smiled. "We can do that. It sounds great."

"Okay." Tim grinned and clapped his hands together. "I'll look into catering the turkey and sides tomorrow."

"Wait. Cater? No, no. We should make dinner." Matt pointed toward his kitchen. "I didn't pay extra for the warming drawer under the oven for nothing." He paused and looked back down at his food. "Plus, it's the perfect opportunity to use it. For the first time."

Tim laughed but shook his head. "It'll be so much easier, not to mention less cleanup, if we order it."

"But it would be so much fun to cook together."

"Famous last words," Tim teased as he stood and picked up both his and Matt's empty plates. He leaned over and gave Matt a kiss before he headed into the kitchen for dishwashing duty.

~~!!~~

Alex arrived on Sunday night, and Tim picked her up from the airport while Matt cooked. Spaghetti with meat sauce was a typical favorite of most age ranges, but Matt was still nervous that she wouldn't want it. In fact, he made a small pot of sauce without the meat in case she was vegetarian, which he hadn't thought to ask before Tim left their apartment.

Matt was keeping an eye on the garlic bread toasting in the oven when the door opened, and Tim walked inside lugging a large suitcase.

"Did you really have to pack your entire wardrobe?" he grumbled at the teenager following him. 

"Seriously, Dad? I'm sixteen. I _need_ all those clothes."

"You're here for a week, Alex, not the rest of the year."

Matt had to work to contain a laugh. They were taking him back to his own teen years and the quarrels he'd had with his own parents about his hair, the cleanliness of his bedroom, and his afterschool activity choices. "Hey!"

They both spun around at the sound of his voice, and he couldn't help but laugh out loud that time. Alex was very pretty – tall and slim with bright blue eyes and long dark hair.

"Is that him?" she asked with wide eyes.

Tim gave her a 'be nice' look and introduced them. 

"It's very nice to finally meet you." Matt gave her a wave from behind the kitchen island. He was about to say more when he smelled something in the air and cursed. The toast was burning. 

Tim dropped the suitcase and rushed over. He and Matt almost fell over each other in their hurry to get the baking sheet out of the oven before the bread really caught fire. 

Matt steadied himself with both hands on the counter and shot a sheepish smile at Alex. "Sorry, sorry. I swear I don't usually burn things."

"No worries. Happens all the time around Dad."

"Haha, not funny." Tim pointed at her and then pointed down the hall. "Why don’t you go and wash up for dinner? It's the door on the left."

Turning toward the remaining bread, Matt started slicing more pieces. "How was the airport?"

"As crazy as usual. She was annoyed that I wouldn't let her ride the subway out here, but I reminded her that she'd never been here before, and I didn't mind picking her up."

"Ah, yes, the teenage need for independence. I remember it well."

Tim snorted. "You're still living it."

Matt glared.

"I mean that in the most loving way possible."

Rolling his eyes, Matt gave Tim a push toward the table. "Go set the places. I'll finish up with this."

Alex returned with a perplexed look, and Matt almost cut his thumb off when she said, "There's more handles in that shower than I've ever seen in my life."

"Alexandra!"

Matt put the knife aside and held up both hands to try to hold off the fight he could see coming. His shower had been designed so that he could always have one hand on a safety bar if needed, and it would look strange to someone who wasn't used to it. "It's okay." 

"No, it's not. Alex, apologize to Matt for being rude."

"What? I wasn't being rude. I was just making an observation."

"It's really okay." Matt took a step toward them, tripped over his feet, and fell.

Alex gasped while Tim ran around the island and reached for him while Matt was turning over. "Are you okay? Matty?"

"I'm fine." Matt jerked away from Tim's hold on his bicep and sat up. "I've got it. I'm fine."

Tim stood and took a step back, but Matt noticed that he stayed close. 

It took a minute for him to get his bearings. He hadn't hit his head, but his back was sore in a way that meant it was threatening to spasm so he'd probably pulled a muscle, which was just another ache to add to the growing list that included his throat and head. He'd been trying to ignore it, but he really hoped he wasn't coming down with something. 

He studied the available handholds and the height of the counter for a minute before he relented and held his hands out toward Tim. "Little help?"

Tim easily pulled him to his feet and steadied him. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah. It's been years since I did that." He blushed with embarrassment and let Tim shadow him the two steps it took to get to his crutches. 

"I'm sorry," Alex said quietly. Her eyes were wide, and she looked like she would rabbit if she had somewhere to go. 

Matt looked to Tim for guidance in handling her. He'd only known her for five minutes, and the last time he'd had a halfway meaningful conversation with a teenager, he'd been one himself.

"It's okay," Tim said as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Let's sit down and eat before it gets cold."

"The toast-" Matt started for his cutting board, but Tim's voice stopped him.

"Will wait for another night. Let's just eat."

Matt nodded and waited for Alex and Tim to start moving toward the table before he joined them. He was feeling self-conscious now that he'd fallen on his face in front of them, and he didn't want eyes on him while he used his crutches. 

Dinner was mostly a quiet affair with some small talk about Alex's flight and how Matt and Tim met. Alex couldn't believe that he owned a bookstore, and he asked her to come by during the week so that she could check it out for herself.

Matt's back was still sore and his head was starting to pound, so while Tim and Alex did the dishes, he took an extra muscle relaxer and stretched out on the couch to channel surf. He stopped at a re-run of Modern Family and was more than half-asleep when Tim shook his shoulder. 

"You want to head to bed?"

"No, I'm watching-" He pointed at the TV, but the comedy had given way to a particularly gruesome Law & Order SVU.

Tim raised an eyebrow while he picked up the remote from the coffee table and handed it to his daughter. 

Matt gingerly levered himself to a sitting position and then stood with his crutches. "Alex, the kitchen's stocked. Feel free to help yourself to anything you want."

"Thanks," she replied though her attention was mostly focused on examining the on-screen guide. 

"Night," Matt said as he made his way down the hall to the bathroom. He felt achy and run-down, but he was still hoping it was nothing. When he took his usual round of nightly medication, he slipped a cold and flu pill in with them, just in case. 

~~!!~~

Over the next couple of days, Matt felt increasingly worse. His throat was scratchy, his whole body ached, and his head throbbed. On Wednesday morning, he slapped his blaring alarm clock off the nightstand and pulled his pillow over his face.

Tim tried to wrestle the pillow away from him, but he held tight. "Matt? What's wrong?"

"Don't feel good," was his muffled reply. "Wanna die."

His boyfriend's hand wormed under the pillow and pressed against his forehead. "You've got a fever." Tim sounded concerned. "Sit up while I get the thermometer and some Tylenol."

Matt didn't want to move, but he was pretty sure that Tim would make him sit up whether he wanted to or not, so he forced himself up on his elbows and then scooted backwards until he was propped up against the headboard. He was weak and chilled and sore; he hated it.

When Tim returned, he immediately stuck the digital thermometer under Matt's tongue. Then, he left the room again, only to return with the drink and their bottle of acetaminophen. He sat down on his side of the bed and fished out two pills.

The thermometer beeped and Matt handed it to Tim while he twisted away to cough into a fist. He winced when the force of the cough caused his chest and back to hurt. "Am I dying?"

Tim frowned and handed him the pills and then the water. "It's 102.8. That's not good. You're staying in bed today."

That rankled, and he sat up a little straighter. "I've had worse, and I need to open the store in an hour."

"Matt, be reasonable. You're sick, and you need rest and fluids instead of being out in public where everyone's passing around every germ known to man."

"Don't be dramatic." He pushed his sweaty covers aside and reached for his crutches.

Tim practically growled but Matt ignored him to focus on the task at hand. He pushed himself to his feet and instantly regretted it when the room spun around and phosphene exploded in his eyes. He stumbled and fell back onto the mattress with a cry of pain. The shock traveled through his body, spiking the ache in his head, back and every joint. 

"Matt?" Tim's hands were on his shoulders, but he had to concentrate on breathing and keeping his head from spinning off his shoulders. 

He gasped and laid his head back. "I'm okay."

Tim brushed damp hair off his forehead and rubbed a thumb against Matt's temple. His tone was concerned and kind when he said, "No, you're not."

Matt sighed. "Would you call Marsha and tell her I'll be in this afternoon?"

"I'll call her and tell her that you won't be in today."

"Dammit, Tim." Matt levered himself up on his elbows and looked around for his cell phone.

"Stop being stubborn. Lay down. I'll talk to Marsha, and we'll see how you're feeling this afternoon, okay?"

Matt wanted to argue even that, but he was struck by a cold chill and shivered hard. He was miserable and no longer had the strength to keep up the argument with Tim. "Sorry," he murmured as Tim maneuvered him back under the covers. "I just really hate being sick."

Tim leaned over to kiss his forehead. "It's okay. Try to relax and let me help, okay?"

He nodded and Tim sat by his hip and rubbed a hand over his chest during a brief phone call with Marsha. By the time, he was done Matt had stopped listening to them and was very close to drifting off.

"Sleep," Tim whispered. The last thing that Matt felt was the warmth of Tim's hand resting over his heart.

~~!!~~

Some time later, Matt woke to his arms being forcefully shoved into a sweater. He groaned in protest and tried to pull away, but someone tightened their grip on his arms. He felt absolutely wretched and coughed hard into the wool that was still covering his face.

"Matt!" Tim's face popped into his field of view a moment later when the sweater was finally pulled down from his face. "Hey, are you awake? Can you hear me?"

He nodded groggily and tried to push Tim away so that he could lie back down.

"Whoa, whoa. No lying down. Stay with me."

"What?" He meant to add more words to his question, but his throat seized and all he could do was cough.

Tim's hand was rubbing circles across his back until he calmed. Then, he used a tissue to wipe Matt's face where he'd coughed so hard that his eyes had teared up. "Just breathe for a minute. That's it. You're doing good."

"What?" Matt asked again, still not understanding what was happening.

"Your fever spiked, and I couldn't really wake you. I'm going to take you to the ER so a doctor can look at you."

Matt shook his head and groaned when the pounding behind his eyes became more pronounced. "No, no, please. No." The last thing he wanted was to sit in a room full of sick people under bright lights and wait for hours for a doctor to tell him that he had the flu. He'd take his chances with the fever.

"Matt, calm down. Matt, are you listening to me? Matty!"

He stilled and even held his breath. He'd never heard that frantic tone from Tim before.

"You're sick, and you need to see a doctor. I wouldn't take you if I didn't think it was necessary. Do you understand?" He'd said it slowly, and Matt was looking right into his eyes where his concern was clearly visible.

He nodded and let Tim finish dressing him in a pair of sweatpants, wool socks and boots. The outfit was winterized with a heavy parka and knitted toque. He even acquiesced to Tim helping him into the wheelchair that he rarely ever used when it became clear that he lacked the energy to stand, much less hold himself steady and navigate the crutches.

Tim pushed him down the hall and into the living room where he saw Alex quietly watching TV. She quickly jumped up and looked uneasily at Tim. "Dad?"

"There's no need for you to come, honey. I don't know how long we'll have to wait, but I'll keep you updated."

"I don't mind waiting." She moved closer, frowned at Matt, and asked, "How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay," he replied and tried to sit up straighter. "Tim's overreacting."

She crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head at him in a way that reminded him very much of his boyfriend. "You're lucky he didn't call an ambulance."

He didn't know what to say to that, but he was saved from taxing his brain for a response when Tim started pushing him toward the door. He called over his shoulder that he'd call Alex later. 

Matt didn't remember much of the drive or of sitting in the ER waiting room, but he was aware of the nurse inserting an IV and the doctor poking and prodding and asking him questions. At one point, he was shuttled off for a chest x-ray, which he thought was utterly ridiculous, but one look at Tim's worried face made him go along with it.

After Matt was back in his ER cubicle, dozing on a gurney, the doctor came in and pulled up a stool.

Tim squeezed Matt's hand, and they both gave their attention to the older man. "Doctor?"

"Your x-rays are concerning, Matt. You're developing pneumonia, and your fever has risen over 103. I want to admit you, at least for the night."

Matt shook his head emphatically. "No. I'm already getting the IV. I'll rest at home."

"That's not what I'm concerned about. Once we determine what type of pneumonia you've got, we'll need to give you some medication. I also don't want your fever to get any worse."

Frowning, Matt opened his mouth, but Tim beat him to saying something. "Can you give us a minute, doctor?"

He stood and nodded. "I'll be back to check on you soon."

Matt waited until he was out of sight to say, "I'm not staying here." It didn't matter that he felt awful. He wasn't going to stay one minute longer than he needed to, especially not when it was almost Thanksgiving and he had made such a big deal out of making dinner with Tim and Alex.

Tim closed his eyes and sighed. "I don't want to fight about this. Your health is not negotiable."

He didn't know what to say to that, so he dropped his head back onto the flat pillow and turned his face away as he considered his options. If he refused to be admitted, they couldn't make him stay, but there was no guarantee that he wouldn't wind up back in the ER in worse shape within a day or so. If he was admitted, he was going to be miserable and alone for Thanksgiving but would be receiving treatment. 

"Listen, I don't want you to be here either, but you're sick, Matty, and I don't want you to get any worse. I'm sorry that you don't feel well, and I understand why you don't want to stay, but I think that you need to."

He coughed and looked back over at Tim. "I hate this."

"I know." Tim's hand squeezed his and then released it. He ran his fingers through Matt's hair, and Matt was starting to resent that gesture since his body responded to it immediately by calming down. His breathing eased and his eyes closed almost involuntarily. He was suddenly exhausted.

When the doctor returned, Matt allowed them to admit him on the condition that he was given a private room. Tim slipped away to call Alex while Matt was being settled into his room, and he appeared not long after the nurses finally left him alone.

"How are you doing?"

"Tired," Matt admitted. "You should go home."

"Alex is helping Willie out in the restaurant. Apparently she's a born hostess. So, there's no reason for me to leave yet."

"I'm sorry this is ruining the holiday. I really wanted to make dinner with you guys."

Tim picked him the hand that wasn't sporting the IV and squeezed it. "Don't worry about it. We can make a mess in the kitchen some other time. What I really wanted was for you and Alex to meet and you did. She thinks you're cool, by the way."

He couldn't help but smile, which turned into a yawn, which turned into a cough. When he got it under control, his eyes were barely open. Sleep was tugging at him. "She's cool too," he rasped.

Tim grinned and kissed the tip of his nose and then his forehead again.

"You're a mother hen," Matt whispered. "Anyone tell you that?"

Laughing, Tim nodded. "Once or twice. Get some sleep."

~~!!~~

The night was a blur of nurses and medications and a breathing treatment when he'd woken up coughing and couldn't stop. His fever broke sometime around daybreak, and he felt a little better by the time visiting hours started despite the nurse's insistence that he keep the nasal cannula that she'd set up during the night.

He was listlessly flipping through channels when there was a knock at his door. Since the nursing staff didn't knock, he assumed it was Tim. "Come in," he said as loudly as he could with his gravelly voice. 

Tim entered, followed by Alex and Willie. All three were carrying paper bags. "Hey. How are you doing?" Tim stooped to give him a kiss, but Matt turned his head. He wouldn't be responsible for getting Tim sick if he could help it.

"Little better, but still tired."

"We talked to your nurse," Willie spoke up. "She said that your fever's come down, but your lungs are being put through the ringer."

Matt shrugged. There was no use in denying it, and his chest hurt badly enough for that to be true. He decided to change the subject. "What's in the bags?"

"This was all Alex and Willie's idea," Tim replied, pointing to the other side of the room where Alex and Willie had confiscated his tray table and moved it over by the window ledge. They were laying out various containers and paper plates and plastic utensils.

Alex looked up and grinned at them. "Since we couldn't have dinner at your place, we thought we'd bring dinner to you."

Matt smiled at her. "You didn't have to do that, but thank you."

"We wanted to." Willie held out a small plastic container of soup and a spoon but had to wait for Tim to raise the head of the bed so that Matt could eat without spilling it on himself. "I know you were looking forward to it."

"Thanks," Matt told him quietly when he took the container. 

Everyone else fixed themselves plates of turkey, mashed potatoes and Willie's famous cranberry stuffing. Then they pulled up chairs and watched "A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving" together. Matt dozed off within the first thirty minutes, after he'd finished his soup. 

When he opened his eyes later, Tim was alone and sitting next to the bed watching over him with an expression so open and full of affection that Matt was sure he'd died and gone to heaven.

Tim leaned forward and kissed Matt before he could move away. "I love you," he whispered when they parted.

"I love you too," Matt replied earnestly. He placed a hand on Tim's cheek and wiped away the single tear that fell. 

"I've wanted to tell you for so long, but I didn't know when, and I was just sitting here thinking about how this could have gotten so bad so quickly and I could have lost-"

Matt moved his hand to cover Tim's mouth. "Shhh. I'm okay. Everything's okay."

"I don't ever want to lose you."

"You won't." Matt made the promise without thought or hesitation. He loved Tim so much that it scared him sometimes, but there was no one he'd rather spend the rest of his life with. Looking into Tim's brown eyes, he saw that the feeling was mutual. He'd never been more thankful for anything in his life.

~End

Thank you for reading!


End file.
